Crimson Rain
by Firefly101
Summary: Your average four-people-survive-apocalypse story. Go ahead and ask for whatever you'd like in the story: new survivors, a twist in their attempts to reach salvation, etc. Remember, ask for additions! I'm not revealing the ideas I use until we get to it.
1. Biographies

**Introductions**

**Name**: Katherine Johnson

**Race (Ethnicity):** Caucasian, a bit of Hispanic

**Apperance:** 5 feet, 5 inches. Not many other identifying marks, keeps her hair tomboy-ish short, has Kevlar vest for protection, but otherwise simple neutral-colored clothing.

**Age**: 33 years old

**Weapons**: One Browning BAR hunting rifle with scope attachment, one pipe wrench

**History**: Not much to tell. Born in San Diego, a police officer that was discharged after being injured in a shootout with a burglar. No kids, and family is distant. She's quiet, but a deadly shot with her hunting rifle. Lucky for her that she kept her Kevlar vest from the policing days, as she needs it in this apocalypse. Moved to Brooklyn a few years back for a taste of, as she calls it, 'a big city'. She's your sniper in the group, preferring to have others back her up and get more headshots then she can count.

**Name**: Donavan Johnson

**Race (Ethnicity)**: Caucasian and slightly Hispanic

**Appearence**: 6 feet, 5 inches. Quite a few scars from friendly fire and enemy fire from Iraq. Full camouflage clothing, complete with a hat. Not very many badges; enough to look professional, but certainly not a general.

**Age**: 36 years old

**Weapons**: One assault rifle, one pistol, and one combat knife

**History**: Born in San Diego with Katherine (see previous bio) as his sister. Went into law for a bit, but eventually fell back with the Army as a medic who would never, ever, ever leave a man behind. Pity that he has a prosthetic leg from a roadside bomb. Doesn't slow him down in the slightest, though. Traveled to Brooklyn to visit Katherine a few days before the zombies arrived. Once the zombies did arrive en force, he started a small rescue group with Katherine, eventually moving on to 'Mel', and finally to Sumiko. He's the leader of the group in all respects but combat, even if he doesn't admit it. He usually does his share of firing, then helps out with wrapping up wounds and other such medical things.

**Name**: Sumiko Ikeda

**Race (Ethnicity)**: Japanese

**Apperance**: 5 feet 8 inches. Very tan, but average build. Black hair, brown eyes. A surprisingly spindly figure. Camouflage with a little Japanese patch, all the average military stuff.

**Age**: 31 years old

**Weapons**: One combat shotgun, two pistols, one katana (a long deceased samurai relative's)

**History**: Born in Japan, joined army as soon as she could. Quickly gained infamy as the "one girl who you do not want to perform the shaving cream trick on" after she punched another cadet in the face when he performed the shaving cream prank. Quickly moved up to Sergeant and then Lieutenant with a slightly cynical view on death. The zombie apocalypse was just another step towards an honorable death. Came to America a few weeks before the apocalypse happened and arrived in New York. Joined up with the other three after fighting her way through some of Manhattan. She's your heavy weapons person, with a combat shotgun, two pistols when she's incapitated, and of course, a katana that she somehow managed to smuggle through airport security. Usually up front, like the combat leader, getting covered in zombie guts and enjoying it.

**Name**: Melissa 'Mel' Smith

**Race (Ethnicity):** Caucasian

**Apperance**: 5 feet 4 inches. Pale. Really, really pale, as in vampire pale. Brown eyes and brown hair, actually a bit bulkier then Sumiko.

**Age**: 38 years old

**Weapons**: Two pistols, one fireaxe

**History**: 'Mel', as Melissa prefers to be called, worked as a secretary at a dead end job. She spent any extra cash on the best pair of running shoes she could buy with her finances. Overall, she lived your average American lifestyle, until the zombie apocalypse erupted out of nowhere and promptly began chewing on whatever part of humanity that had survived. Melissa broke into a gun shop, got two pistols plus a fireaxe and began running. Pretty soon she met up with Donavan and Katherine in Brooklyn, and they caught a small fishing boat to Manhattan, looking for any other survivors and more supplies. She's your constant, constant damage person. With two pistols, she alternates fire from afar, and if her allies are wading knee-deep in zombie gore, she breaks out the fireaxe and goes to chopping up zombies. She's your well-rounded zombie fighter, if you want a summary.


	2. Prelude, or Antics in the Safe Room

_Well, I decided to do a slightly comical introduction to the characters. May be comical to some, may be ridiculous to others, but there's randomness galore! Quite a bit of swearing in this chapter, along with some ass-kicking and anger management issues by Katherine, injury to Donavan, and quite a bit of chortling on the inside with Melissa and Sumiko, who I decided to bond in a friendship. This chapter mainly features Mel and Sumiko, with Katherine as the catalyst and Donavan's final state as the result. And remember, love your safe rooms, people! They gave me the idea for this chapter! … Oh, and thanks for the entries, everyone._

_This is Firefly101, signing off for now._

* * *

**An Introduction, Courtesy of the Safe Room**

"Holy goddamn shit!"

"Mel…… shut up."

"Don't tell me to shut up, Sumiko! You don't have damn zombie gore all over YOUR fucking shoes!"

In fact, that was true. To Melissa's everlasting hatred, Sumiko barely had a smudge of zombie gore on her choice of military-issue boots, while Melissa was covered from head to toe with a mixture of dirt, zombie gore, and Boomer bile. Sighing, she wriggled out of her nearly ruined Nike shoes and stuffed them into a shoe box, pulling her sleeping bag out into the open. At that moment Katherine appeared from the kitchen, balancing a pot and ladle. She stared, her mouth agape, as Melissa clambered into her sleeping bag.

"Mel, go take a damn shower. Donavan'll be done in a few minutes, but get your ass in there before you make that sleeping bag unfit to be slept in by other people," Katherine ordered briskly, tugging the sleeping bag away from Melissa's clutching hands. Holding the rather dirty item at arms' length, she dumped it in the corner. She firmly grasped Mel's shoulders and propelled her towards the shower. That was, until Donavan came out in nothing but a towel. With a yelp, Katherine snatched up her cricket bat and began to whack Jonathan firmly in the shins.

"Donavan!"

_Whack!_

"Johnson!"

_Whack!_

"You get your-."

_Whack!_

"Worthless ass back in that damn shower!"

With a final stinging thwack, this time from her hand to Donavan's face, she glared at him, putting her hands on her waist. Perfect 'you'd better get in that shower now, young man' position. Sumiko applauded and spluttered, through a mouthful of soup, "You heard the girl, Donavan. Might want to hurry unless you want her to get Mel's fireaxe and have her chop your balls off! Or even worse, my katana!" Donavan clutched his eye and mumbled something about woman, stumbling back into the steaming shower. Katherine spun around and marched back into the kitchen, with the sound of something being thrown across the room, until finally she stormed back out, looking furious.

"Where's the damn soup?"

The handle of the pot was sticking out from behind Sumiko and not missed in the slightest by Katherine, who gave Sumiko a look of withering hatred before storming back into the kitchen, mumbling something about needing to beat something or someone into submission. Undeterred, Sumiko savored the mouthful of soup for a moment before turning to Mel, who was currently attempting to rescue her sleeping bag.

"Hey, Mel?"

"Mm."

"…… Have spare dirt or blood I can stick in the soup? I want to see Katherine's face when she finds that, even though she'll probably blow this place sky-high."

"Aw, sure. Why not?"

The shower door flew open and Donavan scrambled out, fully-dressed, his hand covering up one side of his face.

"Don? You okay?"

"Do I LOOK alright?!"

"Hey, hey, no- oh, holy shit."

"Holy crap, Mel! You see this?"

"Of course I see it. I was the first person to say holy shit, idiot."

"That's one hell of a black eye, Don."

"Hm. Tell me about it."

A frying pan flew out of the kitchen, end twirling over end. It was a low blow, too. Donavan suddenly bent over, face clenched in pain, until he finally fell right over, squirming. Katherine could be heard swearing, obviously unaware of the consequences of her burst of anger.

"Looks like Katherine really did take your idea about ball-chopping seriously."

"Dang. Think he's alright?"

"Dunno. Should we help him?"

"Nah. This is fun."

"Depends on your definition of fun."

"Bloody, injury-inducing, and painful? That's fun."

"Mm. Want a ciggy?"

"Sure, why not."

A puff of smoke curled affectionately around Jonathan's head before melting away as Sumiko let out a deep breath. Melissa sucked in the smoke, watching the twitching Jonathan curl up into a ball. Popping open an eyelid, Jonathan eyed the cigarettes with distaste.

"You know, you two, as a medic, I have a right to inform you those could cause a lethal case of lung cancer," Jonathan groaned, eying the curls of smoke.

"We know that, Jonathan. Might want to tell it to your balls," Mel offered, a glint in her eye.

"Shut up, Mel."

"Like Mel said, Jon, tell it to your balls."


End file.
